(Beat)

Allen Ginsberg once wrote something called

Howl, great advice from a dead poet

Like captain my captain

Wasn't that Robin William’s big lesson to those kids?

Oh captain my captain

Whatever, I haven’t seen it

Killing yourself makes sense in his business

Dead actor’s society

They’re all dead

Wearing beautiful faces that used to decorate glossy yearbook photos,

Countless fridge magnets,

The walls of a 1,448 square foot 3 bed 2 bath suburban home

They look out a lot of windows now

Hoping they remember a 17th century Englishman’s preserved words

Dead Letter Perfect

Or no one will notice

silence

The dreamer's death knell

Matt Dillon got discovered riding his bike on the side of the road, playing hooky from school

It’s a comforting fairy tale

We don’t have time for a story

GPA 3.8 ain’t great

Enough

When it comes to poking out from under the fine cloth

Always looking up

There I see a sun and moth

Don’t go towards the light Icarus you ignorant slut

Our wings were burned before we flew

You, blame the boomers, the Jews, the right wing, the cha-cha-ching machine

Party’s over, the rapture passed, nobody was saved

Rideshare drivers now clash and hunt the sides of endless roads

For wanderers with some cash and a final request

Cash for the hunter, request to the living universe

A simple wish, conveyed with a reverent whisper

‘To live a dream before it’s too late’

Amen